


Spit It Out

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: 'torture', Cum Eating, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingering, Hickeys, Humiliation, M/M, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: The Van Der Linde Gang captured you up in the snowy mountains of the Grizzlies. You’re now tied to a tree, thurver south, being threatened multiple times a day for information but you haven’t got anything to give. Until a blonde man appears and gets you talking with just the use of his fingers.First chapter is female reader, second chapter is male reader.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	1. Female Version

**Author's Note:**

> Basically inspired by the idea of you replacing Kieran (sorry Kieran i love u lots.) And ofc, rat man had to be involved.

"Well well well, look what we've got here." 

You were captured by Dutch's gang a week back, the lot of them keeping you captive in hopes of spilling some form of information out of you. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have much to tell. You'd accepted that this was a death sentence the second that Morgan man managed to lasso you off your horse. And now here you are, cold and starving, tied to what's left of a tree near a cliff south of Valentine. 

It's the dead of night and you're unable to sleep. You've seen the odd person walk past on guard duty but they don't bother you much, barely even noticing your presence. 

The camps dark where you are, no lanterns nearby, giving this man the perfect opportunity to sneak up on you.  
This blonde man had been eyeing you up the last week, watching you from afar, studying you maybe? The camp didn't seem to like him much, tutting and shushing him whenever he opened his mouth. He appeared to prey on the weaker members of the camp, so that'd explain why he's approached you.

His eyes are glued to you as he comes into your line of sight. You want to be scared but your guts not telling you to. Something feels... odd about him. 

"You may not wanna talk for the others, but I have my ways in makin' pretty women like you talk."

Oh, here we go. He's another member of the camp hoping to squeeze some information out of you to impress their leader. You'd had a few of them approach you, threatening you in their own way but you told the same story to everyone. You weren't going to treat this man any different.

"I can tell you're hidin' something. Come on, spit it out," He instructs you. 

"I've already told you lot over and over. I don't know shit," you sigh. 

"Suuuuuure you don't," he shakes his head, stopping in front of you. "These men clearly ain't been torturing you right," he says as he rests his hands on his gunbelt. 

"Torturing?" you question. 

Sure, you'd received countless death threats, along with threats of actual torture, but nobody had brought any harm to you. Why would this man decide to harm you now? In the dead of night? All he'd do is wake the others up. Idiot. 

"Now, not in the way you're thinkin'," the ratty looking man explains, raising his hands up innocently. "Like I said, I've got my own personal ways of makin' pretty women talk." 

The stranger takes a step closer to you, bridging the gap. His eyes are staring into yours, but your gaze moves down as he begins to undo the buttons on your pants, slowly moving them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed. 

Surely this man wasn't going to force anything? If he was, you could just start screaming, and you were certain the camp would chuck him off the cliff for doing such a thing. He clearly wasn't else he would have at least made an attempt to cover your mouth before initiating this. 

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he orders you. Your gaze moves back to him, though you'd much rather be watching where his hand is going.

You soon find out when you feel his rough finger slowly glide over your slit, chuckling to himself as he feels the slight dampness to your folds. He rubs small, slow circles over your clit, pressing firmly but not enough to make you squirm.

He knows he's getting to you from the sharp exhale you let out. He watches you closely, your eyes flicking from his hand to him. Eventually, a finger finds its way slowly sliding inside of you. 

His mouth parts as you let out a mix between a sigh and a moan. "Good girl," he praises. 

You have no idea where this is heading. Why would this man show you pleasure when all he wants is information? Maybe he gets off on this? Maybe he's trying to break you down so you'll let some information slip out? Maybe he's just prepping you so he can slip his cock inside?

"When are you gonna tell us what we wanna hear?" he asks. Ugh, not this again. 

"How many times have I gotta say it? I don't know shit," you sigh, shaking your head a little.

"That so?" he asks, sliding his finger out half way so another can slide in alongside it. You moan as he pushes his fingers knuckle deep, lightly chucking, enjoying the way your mouth falls open. 

Is this meant to be torture? Isn't torture meant to be painful? Maybe this man picked up the wrong memo. 

He picks up his pace, clearly enjoying the way you're squirming for him. You can't help but moan as his fingers move at just the right angle, brushing against that soft spot inside of you. 

"Keep quiet, doll. Unless you want the rest of the camp to wake up and find you squirmin' on my fingers," he threatens, speaking quietly into your ear with his rough voice. 

You try your best to keep the volume down, biting your lip and tongue. It's hard, he's far too good. 

"Bet Colm's real proud of ya. I ain't too sure why he'd have a woman in his gang. His own pleasure, maybe?" He questions you. All you can do is shake your head in disagreement, eyes meeting his. He studies your expression, hungrily watching you attempt to hold back on your moans. 

"You a fighter then?" He askes. You shake your head in disagreement again, finally managing to speak through your moans. 

"I just work in the stables," you tell him. "Bottom of the ladder." 

The man lets out a long laugh, his other hand coming to rest on the tree trunk above your head, looking down at you with a feral gaze. 

"We're in need of a camp whore, and you seem like a suitable fit," he tells you. His fingers pick up the pace. You can hear the sound of your own juices, making that squelchy sound every time he thrusts his fingers into you.

He fucks you for a little longer, never taking his gaze off you. You can't really see his face from under the brim of his hat, but you can feel his eyes on you. 

All of a sudden, he pulls out of you. "That's enough," he says. 

"What? What're you doin'?" you sigh, your cunt aching for more. 

"If you ain't got nothin' to give then why should I bother?" He shrugs. He's got a point. 

You pause for a few moments, trying to think of anything. Anything! The only thing that comes to mind is a hideout that Colm often uses, not too far from here. It's not much but it's better than nothing. 

"I got somethin' I can tell you... It ain't much but it's somethin'," you beg. 

"And you promise to tell us the next time we ask for it?" He threatens. You nod as you bite your lip. He lets out a deep breath, eyes meeting yours as he decides on what to do. "Fine, I'll finish you off, but you gotta make one more deal with me, alright?" 

"Go on," you sigh, his fingers brushing back over your entrance, rubbing over your clit every so often but not hard enough to give you the pleasure you're aching for. His other hand moves off the tree to cup your cheeks, squeezing them together lightly in a slightly humiliating way. He holds your head still as he talks down to you.

"When you cum, you gotta call me by my name, alright? I want you to thank me, Micah Bell, for lettin' you cum on my fingers. And if this lot decide to keep you, then you'll be my personal whore. Mine only. You got that?" 

"That was two deals," you correct him. He rolls his eyes at you. 

"I don't care! You goin' through with it or not?" He grunts.

"Yes... Micah," you nod at the same time. A wicked grin creeps across Micahs face as he lets out another long laugh, his voice kept somewhat quiet to not alert the others. 

"Good. Real good. Guess I'll keep to my side of the bargain then," Micah replies as he finally slides his fingers back in, picking up from where he left you off.

You can feel your knees attempting to collapse, forcing yourself upright as Micah fucks his fingers into you. He knows exactly what he's doing, moving his hand off your cheeks to rest above your head once more. 

Micah's really close to you. You can feel his breaths hitting your skin, the curve of his belly pressed against your hips. His eyes glide down from your face to admire the skin that's peeking out from your shirt, noticing your nipples pressed against the fabric. 

You can't hold on any longer. Your head falls forward to lean on Micah's shoulder, panting heavily against the leather of his coat. He seems to enjoy seeing you fall apart, chuckling softly as he continues fingering you. Micah's thumb finds your clit again and your body decides that that's the final straw.

"Shit, oh! Micah!" You moan against him. Micah moves his arm from the tree trunk to lift your head off his shoulder, keeping your head pressed back against the trunk as his hand settles around your throat. 

He's clearly done this before, choking you perfectly. A rush of blood hits your temples just as your orgasm hits you, forcing you to shut your eyes as you moan a little louder than you wanted to.

"Micah! Oh, fuck! Oh thank you Mister Bell," you sigh as you cum. He milks you a little bit, loving your over-sensitivity and the way your body shakes every time his thumb rubs over your clit. 

"That's real good, darlin'," Micah praises you, eventually slipping his fingers out. "You hungry?" He asks, lightening the pressure of his hand on your throat but not moving it away. 

You know exactly what Micah wants you to do. You open your mouth, your tongue sticking out slightly. Micah feels his cock twitch, grinning as he slides his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck your own juices off him.

Micah lets go of your throat, tilting your head to the side so he can mark you as his own. His fingers remain in your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your tongue running in between them. 

Micah bite's down on your neck. Hard. He chuckles as he hears you whimper, sucking as your skin, his mustache scraping against it. He leaves a large hickey on the side of your neck, high enough to not be hidden by the collar of your shirt. As Micah moves away, his mustache scrapes over the mark, making you whimper once more. Each of the hairs feeling like tiny cat scratches against that sensitive area. 

"Now they're gonna know you're all mine," Micah tells you as he pulls his fingers out from your mouth. He wipes them off on his pants before buttoning yours back up. 

"You've done good, girl. I'll let Dutch know that you're ready to talk. You better have that pussy ready for me cause as soon as you've proven your worth, I'm gonna be all over you," Micah tells you. 

"Yes, Mister Bell," you respond, eyes meeting his. 

"Mhmm. I enjoy you callin' me that far too much," Micah speaks slowly, emphasizing how much he enjoys it. "Shame I can't use your pretty holes right now. I'm aching to pump my load inside of ya." Micah moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head to the side to admire his mark, the skin slowly turning purple. 

"I could stand here and gaze at that all night," Micah chuckles. "You be good now, girl. Be ready to talk." 

"Of course, Mister Bell." 

Micah gives you one last look before heading off into the night, disappearing through the trees of the camp, probably going to let off some steam. Your head rolls back to lie against the trunk, overlooking the camp, distracted by the aching feeling on your neck.

What have you gotten yourself into?


	2. Male Version

"Well well well, look what we've got here." 

You were captured by Dutch's gang a week back, the lot of them keeping you captive in hopes of spilling some form of information out of you. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have much to tell. You'd accepted that this was a death sentence the second that Morgan man managed to lasso you off your horse. And now here you are, cold and starving, tied to what's left of a tree near a cliff south of Valentine.

It's the dead of night and you're unable to sleep. You've seen the odd person walk past on guard duty but they don't bother you much, barely even noticing your presence. 

The camps dark where you are, no lanterns nearby, giving this man the perfect opportunity to sneak up on you.  
This blonde man had been eyeing you up the last week, watching you from afar, studying you maybe? The camp didn't seem to like him much, tutting and shushing him whenever he opened his mouth. He appeared to prey on the weaker members of the camp, so that'd explain why he's approached you.

His eyes are glued to you as he comes into your line of sight. You want to be scared but your guts not telling you to. Something feels... odd about him. 

"You may not wanna talk for the others, but I have my ways in makin' pretty boys like you talk."

Oh, here we go. He's another member of the camp hoping to squeeze some information out of you to impress their leader. You'd had a few of them approach you, threatening you in their own way but you told the same story to everyone. You weren't going to treat this man any different.

"I can tell you're hidin' something. Come on, spit it out," He instructs you. 

"I've already told you lot over and over. I don't know shit," you sigh. 

"Suuuuuure you don't," he shakes his head, stopping in front of you. "These men clearly ain't been torturing you right," he says as he rests his hands on his gunbelt. 

"Torturing?" you question. 

Sure, you'd received countless death threats, along with threats of actual torture, but nobody had brought any harm to you. Why would this man decide to harm you now? In the dead of night? All he'd do is wake the others up. Idiot. 

"Now, not in the way you're thinkin'," the ratty looking man explains, raising his hands up innocently. "Like I said, I've got my own personal ways of makin' pretty boys talk." 

The stranger takes a step closer to you, bridging the gap. His eyes are staring into yours, but your gaze moves down as he begins to undo the buttons on your pants, slowly moving them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed. 

Surely this man wasn't going to force anything? If he was, you could just start screaming, and you were certain the camp would chuck him off the cliff for doing such a thing. He clearly wasn't else he would have at least made an attempt to cover your mouth before initiating this. 

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he orders you. Your gaze moves back to him, though you'd much rather be watching where his hand is going.

You soon find out when you feel the rough palm of his hand gently grab a hold of your balls, massaging them gently in large circular motions. He chuckles to himself, ignoring your flaccid cock, though you know if he carries this on, it won't be flaccid for much longer.

He knows he's getting to you from the sharp exhale you let out. He watches you closely, your eyes flicking from his hand to him. Eventually, you can feel your cock growing, enjoying the way he's fondling you far too much.

His mouth parts as you let out a mix between a sigh and a moan. "Good boy," he praises. 

You have no idea where this is heading. Why would this man show you pleasure when all he wants is information? Maybe he gets off on this? Maybe he's trying to break you down so you'll let some information slip out? Maybe he's just working you up so he can walk away and leave you restless?

"When are you gonna tell us what we wanna hear?" he asks. Ugh, not this again. 

"How many times have I gotta say it? I don't know shit," you sigh, shaking your head a little.

"That so?" he asks, finally moving from your balls to your cock, taking your semi-hard member in his large, rough hand and giving it a few slow pumps. You moan as he does this; he lightly chuckles, enjoying the way your mouth falls open. 

Is this meant to be torture? Isn't torture meant to be painful? Maybe this man picked up the wrong memo. 

He picks up his pace, clearly enjoying the way you're squirming for him. You can't help but moan as his hand jerks you at just the right angle, his thumb brushing over your tip every so often.

"Keep quiet, sweetcheeks. Unless you want the rest of the camp to wake up and find you ruttin' into my hand," he threatens, speaking quietly into your ear with his rough voice. 

You try your best to keep the volume down, biting your lip and tongue. It's hard, he's far too good. 

"Bet Colm's real proud of ya. I ain't too sure why he'd have such a weak man in his gang. His own pleasure, maybe?" He questions you. All you can do is shake your head in disagreement, eyes meeting his. He studies your expression, hungrily watching you attempt to hold back on your moans. 

"You a fighter then?" He askes. You shake your head in disagreement again, finally managing to speak through your moans. 

"I just work in the stables," you tell him. "Bottom of the ladder." 

The man lets out a long laugh, his other hand coming to rest on the tree trunk above your head, looking down at you with a feral gaze. 

"We're in need of a camp whore, and you seem like a suitable fit," he tells you. His hand picks up the pace, though you wish the other one would go back to playing with your balls. Then again, this was meant to be torture. 

He jerks you for a little longer, never taking his gaze off you. You can't really see his face from under the brim of his hat, but you can feel his eyes on you. 

All of a sudden, he pulls his hand away. "That's enough," he says. 

"What? What're you doin'?" you sigh, your cock twitching for more. 

"If you ain't got nothin' to give then why should I bother?" He shrugs. He's got a point. 

You pause for a few moments, trying to think of anything. Anything! The only thing that comes to mind is a hideout that Colm often uses, not too far from here. It's not much but it's better than nothing. 

"I got somethin' I can tell you... It ain't much but it's somethin'," you beg. 

"And you promise to tell us the next time we ask for it?" He threatens. You nod as you bite your lip. He lets out a deep breath, eyes meeting yours as he decides on what to do. "Fine, I'll finish you off, but you gotta make one more deal with me, alright?" 

"Go on," you sigh, his hand finding your cock again, jerking you but not fast or firm enough to give you the pleasure you're aching for. His other hand moves off the tree to cup your cheeks, squeezing them together lightly in a slightly humiliating way. He holds your head still as he talks down to you.

"When you cum, you gotta call me by my name, alright? I want you to thank me, Micah Bell, for lettin' you cum with my hand. And if this lot decide to keep you, then you'll be my personal whore. Mine only. You got that?" 

"That was two deals," you correct him. He rolls his eyes at you. 

"I don't care! You goin' through with it or not?" He grunts.

"Yes... Micah," you nod at the same time. A wicked grin creeps across Micahs face as he lets out another long laugh, his voice kept somewhat quiet to not alert the others. 

"Good. Real good. Guess I'll keep to my side of the bargain then," Micah replies as he finally tightens his grip and speeds up his pace, picking up from where he left you off.

You can feel your knees attempting to collapse, forcing yourself upright as Micah jerks you. He knows exactly what he's doing, moving his hand off your cheeks to finally fondle your balls.

Micah's really close to you. You can feel his breaths hitting your skin, the curve of his belly pressed against your hips. His eyes glide down from your face to admire the skin that's peeking out from your shirt, noticing your nipples pressed against the fabric. 

You can't hold on any longer. Your head falls forward to lean on Micah's shoulder, panting heavily against the leather of his coat. He seems to enjoy seeing you fall apart, chuckling softly as he continues jerking you. Micah's thumb rubs over your tip again, his hand massaging your balls perfectly, his other hand jerking you at just the right pace. It's all too much. 

"Shit, oh! Micah!" You moan against him. Micah moves his hand off your balls to lift your head off his shoulder, keeping your head pressed back against the trunk as his hand settles around your throat. 

He's clearly done this before, choking you perfectly. A rush of blood hits your temples just as your orgasm hits you, forcing you to shut your eyes as you moan a little louder than you wanted to.

"Micah! Oh, fuck! Oh thank you Mister Bell," you sigh as you cum, covering your own shirt which is certain to stain. He milks you a little bit, loving your over-sensitivity and the way your body shakes every time his hand brushes up and down on your member. 

"That's real good, darlin'," Micah praises you, eventually letting go of your cock. "You hungry?" He asks, lightening the pressure of his hand on your throat but not moving it away. 

You know exactly what Micah wants you to do. You open your mouth, your tongue sticking out slightly. Micah feels his cock twitch, grinning as he slides his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck your own cum off his fingers.

Micah lets go of your throat, tilting your head to the side so he can mark you as his own. His fingers remain in your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your tongue running in between them. 

Micah bite's down on your neck. Hard. He chuckles as he hears you whimper, sucking as your skin, his mustache scraping against it. He leaves a large hickey on the side of your neck, high enough to not be hidden by the collar of your shirt. As Micah moves away, his mustache scrapes over the mark, making you whimper once more. Each of the hairs feeling like tiny cat scratches against that sensitive area. 

"Now they're gonna know you're all mine," Micah tells you as he pulls his fingers out from your mouth. He wipes them off on his pants before buttoning yours back up. 

"You've done good, boy. I'll let Dutch know that you're ready to talk. You better have that ass ready for me cause as soon as you've proven your worth, I'm gonna be all over you," Micah tells you. 

"Yes, Mister Bell," you respond, eyes meeting his. 

"Mhmm. I enjoy you callin' me that far too much," Micah speaks slowly, emphasizing how much he enjoys it. "Shame I can't use your pretty hole right now. I'm aching to pump my load inside of ya." Micah moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head to the side to admire his mark, the skin slowly turning purple. 

"I could stand here and gaze at that all night," Micah chuckles. "You be good now, boy. Be ready to talk." 

"Of course, Mister Bell." 

Micah gives you one last look before heading off into the night, disappearing through the trees of the camp, probably going to let off some steam. Your head rolls back to lie against the trunk, overlooking the camp, distracted by the aching feeling on your neck and the feeling of your sticky shirt against your stomach.

What have you gotten yourself into?


End file.
